


Everyone's a Critic

by knightofsuperior



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night (Visual Novel), Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 04:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18308585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightofsuperior/pseuds/knightofsuperior
Summary: Lancer is bored out of his mind, waiting for his chance to strike in the latest Holy Grail War. He has a Master with some weird long-game plan, and an asshole "roommate." All the Servant has to keep him occupied is some mindless television. A chance encounter on an errand for his Master leads to the single greatest tragedy of the Fifth Holy Grail War:A Servant, with only technical knowledge of the craft, attempting to write a television show.This can only go swimmingly.





	Everyone's a Critic

**Author's Note:**

> Me: Oh, hey, there's a Cu-themed fan zine open for applications! Let's see what samples I have of-  
> -only Cu material is as a minor gag character in a half-finished fic-  
> Me: ...well, let's fix that.

There were two things that the Hound of Chulainn knew to be true.

One was that he despised his Master.

Kirei Kotomine was a bastard, through and through. He knew Lancer wanted to fight, and he knew that he could eliminate any enemy he set his eyes upon. He could only imagine the priest got off on suffering, then, as the spearman had been stuck in the damn church for a solid week at this point. All he wanted was to fight in the damn war he’d been summoned in-why was that such a difficult request?!

The second thing Lancer knew, however, was that if Kotomine was bad, his blonde friend was a million times worse.

“Gil” was the single most infuriating person Lancer ever had the misfortune to meet. Whenever they were in the same room, it was always the same: Mongrel, Mongrel, Mongrel. Oh, how he wished he would be able to just shove Gae Bolg right between his smarmy eyes. A nice little lobotomy would take the edge off being stuck indoors. But, that was against his Master’s wishes (and the Servant could tell that something more was off about the guy; killing intent radiated from his very pores).

As such, Lancer stewed in this knowledge, waiting for his chance to strike.

In the meantime, however…

_ “There’s something I need to tell you, Mirow.” _

_ “What is it, Rakura?” _

“What the hell is this?” Lancer’s hand gripped the remote control, as he willed himself to keep it steady and not chuck it straight into the television. “Are you doing this shit  _ again _ ? For God’s sake, woman, just tell him already!”

_ “I really...think I like you.” _

_ “Well, I like you too! You’re one of my best friends.” _

**_“You know damn well that’s not what she means!”_ **

“Lancer.” The spearman jumped up, dropping the remote in his surprise. Kotomine raised an eyebrow, glancing towards the TV as he walked into the room. “I didn’t take you for a fan of romance.”

“Well,” Lancer grumbled, “You make do when a certain someone won’t let you fight.”

“I haven’t the foggiest what you mean.” Kotomine smiled, that pitch-perfect bullshit that Lancer had come to know and...get used to, he supposed. “However, if it’s action you’re more in the mood for, might I recommend Channel 13? I believe that a pirate show should be airing right about now.”

“I don’t want to know why you know this.” Lancer rolled his eyes, Gae Bolg materializing in his hand. “Do you actually have something for me or were you just going to criticize my choice in cartoons?”

“Both, actually,” Kotomine replied. “I need you to go out and do me a favor.”

“Does it involve the War?”

“No. It involves my grocery list.” Kotomine smirked as Lancer’s face fell to a frown. “I’m afraid I have pressing business to attend to, and I would not deign to ask Gil to do this for me. Would you be so kind as to pick up these items for me?” He handed Lancer a list. Lancer scanned the items-basic things like milk, eggs, bread. A couple of meat cuts.

“...’shaving cream,’ Master?” Lancer blinked. “I can’t imagine you with a beard.”

“Why do you think that is?” Kotomine chuckled. “I know it’s no duel to the death, but truly, I’m certain God will look upon your actions fondly.”

Lancer grumbled. “Not like you will.”

Kotomine merely shrugged.

* * *

 

“Ok…” Lancer tugged at his Hawaiian shirt, trying to ignore the way the fabric itched at his shoulder. He didn’t think it was any kind of allergic reaction, but when you wear nothing but spandex for a while, you tend to expect pressure on there. Lancer at least was grateful this time period had actual fashion all the same-he shuddered when he thought back to his younger days.

Fur coats. Ugh.

“Now, I just need the salmon…” He turned his cart around a corner, heading to the fish aisle. It wasn’t much of an aisle, just a couple rows of seafood. Lancer spotted his quarry, quickly making to grab it and move along.

His hand brushed against another.

“Whoa,” he muttered, “Sorry about th-”

He froze.

The Servant Archer stared back at him, a horrified look plastered on his face. He wore a straight-black ensemble, a far more refined look in comparison to the Hawaiian shirt and shorts-combo Lancer had thrown together.

While Lancer wasn’t unhappy to see that stunned expression, he was surprised to see it period. What was Archer doing there?

His senses were screaming at him, telling him to stab the white-haired bastard as soon as possible, to just steal the damn food even.

However, another inclination took over at that moment.

Something far, far more petty, but so much more gratifying.

“Well, well. Salmon’s on the menu for tonight, huh?” Lancer grinned, withdrawing his hand. “You and your Master having a quiet night in?”

“What do you want?” Archer spat.

“Well, I’d say that’s obvious.” He gestured to the fish.

“Did you know I’d be here?” Lancer could see Archer beginning to materialize something in his free hand (his other holding a reusable bag, adorned with some kind of...orange? Maybe?). “While I’d like to keep things under wraps, if you wanted to take this outside-”

“Hold on there, tall, dark, and edgy.” Lancer held up a hand, shaking his head. “I’m just here on my Master’s orders. Not that they’re great orders,” he muttered, “But they are still orders. I mean, if you want me to end this right here, I will.” He grinned. “That said, I’m certain our fellow customers wouldn’t be as forgiving as I would.”

Archer let out a low growl, but lowered his free hand all the same. Lancer grabbed two packs of salmon, casually tossing one at the other Servant. As Archer caught the fish, Lancer continued. “Besides, this ain’t the right locale for our big brawl. I mean, think about it,” he pointed out. “If I’m gonna kick your ass, I’m doing it under the city skyline-ooh, maybe even a moving vehicle. That’d be fun. But this? Think about it.”

Archer glanced around. Only a few people were in the store this late at night, making the building seem even more sterile. Some sugary-sweet pop song was blaring in the background, crackling over the loudspeaker.

“...it is a tad underwhelming,” Archer admitted.

“Right?” Lancer placed the fish in his cart, grabbing a couple packages of scallops shortly afterward. “And that’s that.” He turned the cart around, heading straight down the aisle towards the nearby check-out line. Archer, eyes locked on him like a hawk on its prey, followed suit. While the store was mostly empty, the line itself was surprisingly long, not helped by an old man (one with the most disgusting face Lancer had ever seen) holding things up with a metric ton of coupons.

Lancer sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Compared to this tedious crap, I’d almost rather be stuck watching TV right now.”

Archer snickered. “Oh, the great and mighty Lancer, unable to handle a simple line. Patience isn’t your strong suit, is it?” He paused. “...what would you watch on TV? You don’t seem the type to enjoy modern media.”

“Oh, trust me, I enjoy maybe a single percent of it. Some of the things these people put out just…” He rolled his eyes. “Half of it is will-they-won’t-they nonsense, like this one show. Destiny/Move Day, I think?”

Archer’s eye twitched slightly. “I’m familiar. I hear it was written by a local high-school student, as part of a competition.”

* * *

Meanwhile, a certain Student Council president was hard at work, grinning as he looked over his latest manuscript. “I’m certain the fans will love this supernatural turn,” he muttered. “After all, who doesn’t love vampires?”

* * *

“You can tell,” Lancer groused. “It’s such trite. ‘Oh, Mirow-san! I love you!’ ‘What’s that? You love food?’” Lancer let out a hollow laugh. “They can’t even be bothered to put in any actual drama in their relationship, so they just make the guy an idiot and the girl moro-sexual.”

“I think it’s a fairly realistic depiction,” Archer muttered, his attention suddenly focused on the ceiling fan above them. “Not everyone is a genius when it comes to love-wait.” Archer blinked. “What is a moro-sexual and why do you know what it is?”

“Sexually attracted to morons. Picked it up online.” Lancer shrugged. “I’ve had a  _ lot  _ of free time.”

Archer put a hand to his chin. A rare grin spread across his face. “...I think I know a few people who would fit that description.”

* * *

Meanwhile, three nearly-unrelated women across Fuyuki suddenly felt the urge to smack a certain boy in the face. They weren’t sure why. The temptation was strong all the same.

* * *

“Yeah, sure you do.” Lancer couldn’t have been happier when he reached the front of the line, taking things out from his cart and dropping them unceremoniously (eggs aside) onto the conveyor. The cashier-bless her soul-seemed to not be paying too much attention to the argument. As she bagged his food, Lancer turned back to Archer. “Point is, people can’t write worth shit these days. It’s disappointing. If I’m gonna be stuck doing nothing,” he muttered in a stage-whisper, hoping to whatever God their was that his Master was listening, “I’d rather be stuck doing nothing with something good on in the background.”

“And what? You think can do any better?” Archer asked as Lancer withdrew his wallet.

All at once, it was like lightning had struck Lancer where he stood.

“...you know what?” The Servant grinned, quickly whipping a few bills from his wallet. “I think I can.”

“...you realize,” Archer began, “That I wasn’t at all serious about-”

Lancer slapped the bills down on the counter, grabbing his bags. “Keep the change!” He then rushed outside, barely making it through the automatic doors as he vanished into the night sky.

Archer stared at the door, as did the cashier. He couldn’t help the nagging feeling of dread that had begun to creep up his spine. All the same, he glanced down at the bills Lancer left behind. “...if he’s not taking that change, I will.” At the cashier’s glare, Archer shrugged. “We could use some extra cutlets at home. Figured I’d try, at least.”


End file.
